Members
Hi! I'm relatively new at poetry, but I love it. My poems are mostly in-depth, about philosophy, metaphysics, and they are pretty melancholy. Basically you ...
Poems
Parasuram Dora Hanumanthu Dec 2013
Eponym
Parasuram Dora Hanumanthu
Dec 2013
Irrelevant and inexperienced tongues speak
of things that are merely meek
borrowed thoughts, charred and dark
none got the zeal or spark
of the original mark
behold the originator of thought
Fierce and finesse
opulent and neoteric
complex yet tangible
veridical and factual
juxtaposing tradition and aesthetics
original stands out better
Pursue your thoughts
deliberately choose
perdurable possibilities
disparate spheres of same thought
well deserved appreciation
eponymous hero, you will be !!
of things that are merely meek
borrowed thoughts, charred and dark
none got the zeal or spark
of the original mark
behold the originator of thought
Fierce and finesse
opulent and neoteric
complex yet tangible
veridical and factual
juxtaposing tradition and aesthetics
original stands out better
Pursue your thoughts
deliberately choose
perdurable possibilities
disparate spheres of same thought
well deserved appreciation
eponymous hero, you will be !!
M G Hsieh
Nov 2016
it was winter when i wrote you ;
crags, rocks, trees, were all black
on white and ice --
ice,
it beat on my door --
slivered on the mattress,
sheets of it --
a bedfellow, willing,
eager.
when did the scorpion bring
warm coals to temper the night?
the howl of the moon,
the scorch of the sun --
inside was fire, gurgling.
it was froth and magma.
i heard the tempest, both sea and sky --
faith,
they called
it a rock.
a deep,
black,
rock
in ice.
crags, rocks, trees, were all black
on white and ice --
ice,
it beat on my door --
slivered on the mattress,
sheets of it --
a bedfellow, willing,
eager.
when did the scorpion bring
warm coals to temper the night?
the howl of the moon,
the scorch of the sun --
inside was fire, gurgling.
it was froth and magma.
i heard the tempest, both sea and sky --
faith,
they called
it a rock.
a deep,
black,
rock
in ice.
Keith W Fletcher
Jan 2016
With obsolescent clarity
Amid moribund metaphysical
Mutations
As the iridium ball rolls
From eponym to epitaph
Engeneering an epoch diarama
In surfeit metronomic hysteria
While time chases time into infinity
Episodic vagaries celebrate
The metaphoric metamorphosis rising to
Metaphysical majesty as vacuous
As any minutiae will
When abstract vagaries
Become the vagrant epitome
Of a mordant mosaic
Made entirely of the lost causes
Torn from the very core
I surmise
As being the virulent....
.....Tragic and irridescent pieces
Left along the allegorical antipathy
Where those that are left behind
By the stigmatation
Of any irascible involutions
Mired in the mesh
Of scribbles and scribes
Left
After the iridium ball rolls By
Leaving vacuous irridescent
Symbols of epigraphical
Proportions
Stymied by
The obsolescent clarity
Amid moribund metaphysical mutations.
Amid moribund metaphysical
Mutations
As the iridium ball rolls
From eponym to epitaph
Engeneering an epoch diarama
In surfeit metronomic hysteria
While time chases time into infinity
Episodic vagaries celebrate
The metaphoric metamorphosis rising to
Metaphysical majesty as vacuous
As any minutiae will
When abstract vagaries
Become the vagrant epitome
Of a mordant mosaic
Made entirely of the lost causes
Torn from the very core
I surmise
As being the virulent....
.....Tragic and irridescent pieces
Left along the allegorical antipathy
Where those that are left behind
By the stigmatation
Of any irascible involutions
Mired in the mesh
Of scribbles and scribes
Left
After the iridium ball rolls By
Leaving vacuous irridescent
Symbols of epigraphical
Proportions
Stymied by
The obsolescent clarity
Amid moribund metaphysical mutations.